Author's Note: as we reach the final ten-or-less chapters of this story, there are a few songs I'm going to include that I think fit the story/characters so perfectly, that I'm going to almost insist that people listen to them, they are simply that good and give you such a greater understanding of the story and it's characters.
One such song, is the one for this chapter. Not only am I addicted to it (I keep listening to it on repeat) but it absolutely presents how the characters are feeling and their voices perfectly! Please give it an ear, it will set up the mood for this chapter greatly (I hope).
And please don't forget to review - I live for them!
Something's Still There
"I can't help my heart, I can't catch the wind
So every night I raise the dead and face the ghost of us again,
I can't stop the flood, or drown your memory
I can be a hurricane of driving rain and misery…" Will Chase & Laura Benanti – 'Can't help my heart'
It was another long night for Grace. She waited until far past Teddy's bedtime, long after all the cleaning and chores were done, and once all the doors and windows had been double checked. When she'd driven herself to the point of beyond-tired, she did as she had done every night for the past week. A shawl was draped over her body and tied at her front to be sure that her cold-blooded body wasn't too badly affected by the cold of the Mojave night. Lighting a lantern, she then made her way out her front door and towards her barn.
Another night of cold and nightmares. Of screaming and shivering with no end in sight.
That was when she heard it. Right before her tail could unbolt the door to the barn, distant gunshots rang across the night. No hindered by any obstacle out in the desert, sound would travel far, no matter how distorted it became. It was enough to make her pause, gunshots not too far from her home was never a good thing. Her heart began to increase with fright.
Lantern held higher and further in front to try and see, Grace felt herself be pulled out into the night. She went far beyond the perimeter of her land, past the fences and gates and slightly spooked animals in their pens. What spell held her in its grip, she didn't know, but she was powerless against it.
At the point when her nerve almost won out, when she nearly shook off whatever had held her, when her heart couldn't take much more of the tension – something caught her eye. Breath trembling in her lungs, she dared to move forward. The darkness moved again. A long mass shifted ahead, the impression of rough scales against the oily darkness of the desert night. As she came closer, the lantern light slowly parted away he darkness like a veil and revealed to her piece by piece, what lay in the earth.
"Is that… Jake?" she whispered.
Indeed. Laid out on the ground was the huge rattlesnake. But not as Grace remembered him. His body was covered in slices and cuts, blood seeping over almost every scale and staining the floor. The belt of bullets looped around his middle was torn and nearly hung together by mere threads. Beneath his black hat, his eyes were unfocused and near dim.
"Jake?" Grace called to him, a little louder.
He didn't respond. The last thing he seemed to focus on was the light in her hand. Then, his eyes rolled and closed, his head slumped into the earth.
"Jake!"
Her mind was scrambled, her body shook. The anxiety and horror warred within her. The insecurities that had surfaced in her recently, tried to hold her back. But this was Jake, her Jake, and he was hurt. He needed her.
Quick and careful, the glossy snake wound herself around Jake. He was a large and heavy brute, and though she tried to support his head, grab his chest, and not aggravate his wounds, he was still a little too much for her. It took all of her strength to hold him up, much less drag him back the way she had come. Held in her coils, she could barely feel the beat of his heart. He was in bad shape. Dangerously so.
It took too long to get him all the way back to her property. The poor woman's body was screaming at her where her muscles hurt and cramped from clenching for too long. It was almost too much to heave him the last few metres into the barn and lay him down in the soft hay. Grace wanted to collapse and pass out right then and there. But she couldn't.
Forcing herself onwards, she went back into her house and tore through every cupboard and draw until she found what she was looking for. Tail wrapped around a whole stack of bandages, bottles of pure-alcohol and a bowl of water, she raced back to the barn. Her load put to one side, she carefully and tenderly began to strip Jake of his bodily garments. His hat and bullet belts were put aside until he appeared almost naked before her.
Grace hesitated, afraid. She didn't know how to stitch up injuries that looked this bad. And it looked like Jake needed it. In order to get him that treatment, she'd need to go into town to get the Doctor. But in his current state, Jake wouldn't last that long.
Immediately, she picked out her bowl of water and a rag and began to clean away the blood from his sandy scales. It didn't take long to turn the water scarlet, but she kept going. Next came the bandages. Each was doused in alcohol before she hurriedly began to wrap him up. The blood flow was slowed, and she prayed to whatever god was listening that it would tide him over until she could get proper help.
Just as she was about to finish, she felt the muscles beneath her touch move. She froze. A rabbit caught in the headlights on the human road. She watched. Jake began to move, to stir, his eyes blinking open. For a moment, she allowed this prospect to fill her heart with hope. But then she saw his eyes: unfocused, delirious, unable to see anything around him truly.
Without full comprehension, he acted on pure instinct. His metallic tail began a weak rattle, his coils tried to hide away from her and bunch up, which accidentally aggravated his wounds. He hissed, more agitated by the second. Fangs attempting to come loose, he tried to roll himself up further. Grace's stomach lurched when she saw his head roll uncontrollably.
Without thinking, she hurriedly tried to push him back down. "Jake, don't–"
His head snapped in her direction. Grace froze and for a terror-inducing-moment, thought she would die. All her fear from Benjamin resurfaced for a second and a scream almost tore out of her throat. On the edge of madness, she was about to fall. And then, Jake's black tongue flickered a millisecond before he struck. It sent a scent straight into his mouth and he stilled.
Just as fast, his body moved and wrapped itself around her. Grace had to fight the instinctive panic of claustrophobia, of the touch on her skin without her permission. But Jake did not hurt her. He clung to her, as if seeking comfort, as if he wanted someone to comfort him through this horrid pain. Grace had to calm herself with counting, and then remind herself that this was Jake. Her Jake.
But what did that even mean anymore? Why did it matter and ache at the same time?
Eventually, she gathered the courage to reach up to him and gently stroke the end of her tail along the top of his skull in soothing strokes. Her voice whispered soft nonsensical murmurings. Just as she had with Teddy when he'd been a babe, she let her touch and mere presence communicate what reasoning and conversation could not. It was a very primal thing, and one that she found started to wash away even the icy clutches that had taken hold of her insides.
After some time, Jake relaxed and released her. As soon as she was able, Grace rushed back into the house and retrieved as many spare blankets as she could. She threw them over the rattler in an effort to keep him warm – his scales had become far too cold for her liking. Knowing that it was the best she could do, she bolted out of the barn, out of the farm and into the desert straight to town.
She pounded on the Sheriff's door, the city hall, the doctor's practice and even Bufford's bar until she found all the citizens she wanted. The Doctor had to be shaken out of drunken stupor, and Rango emerged half-dressed and with a facial mask on when he came out with Wounded-Bird. By the time Grace had them all and told them the quick version of her story, almost half of Mud was awake and wondering into the streets to see what the gossip was all about. Thankfully they stayed stood there in their nightgowns as Grace led the way for the three other animals back towards her farm.
When they got back to her barn, Jake had once again attempted to rouse himself. His tongue flickered and tried to tell him there were intruders and threats close by. He hissed loudly at the three newcomers. Grace rushed forward in an attempt to intercept the defensive display.
"Jake's it's alright, shhhhh…" she whispered and slowly approached. It worked after a moment and diverted his attention to her long enough to calm him down and settle him back to sleep.
The others were still a little sceptical about Jake being fully out for the count, and so had their trepidations in approaching. Grace anxiously urged them on, and moved back out of the way in order to let the doctor do his work. He undid the bandages and inspected every wound. From his bag, he produced a needle and thread strong and sharp enough to pierce the snake's tough hide. As she watched, Grace had to admit that even for a drunk, the doctor was very good at what he did. Wounded-Bird stood beside the doctor, and through some mysterious Red-Indian-know-it-all way, told them that Jake's worst wounds were made from some kind of bird – a hawk. It did little to put Grace's nerves at ease. As a snake herself, Grace had her own inborn wariness when it came to hawks, not to mention the fact that the last one that had lived round these parts had been a nightmare. Whilst Wounded-Bird and the Doctor carried on, Rango questioned Grace for more details on how she had found Jake and tried to piece together what had happened (though not very well).
It took a little while for the Doc to finish, and when he finally wiped his paws clean of blood, Grace waited nervously for his verdict. The hare let out a tired sigh. "If he makes it through the night, he should pull through. He's gonna need a lotta rest, warmth and food – no goin' nowhere for a week, at least."
Grace nodded her understanding.
Not long after that, the bird, reptile and mammal left her farm, with Rango promising her that he'd stop by in the morning. Grace watched them go, to make sure they made it safely away. Then, she piled the blankets back over Jake and made sure he had all of the warmth the barn could offer him. The Doc had said that they couldn't move him now until he was strong enough to move himself. So Grace coiled up beside him and prepared herself for a long and sleepless night. She wouldn't let him die, she swore it. Even if she had to stay up all night to keep him warm and see to his wounds, she would do it.
Jake didn't awaken until well into the afternoon of the next day.
Grace had worried about how to feed him when he wouldn't wake up. She was exhausted from a sleepless night, and the constant strain on her nerves was not helping her. Teddy had come looking for her in the morning, and upon first seeing Jake, had been over the moon, until he got a good look at the rattler. He'd then been confused, as if he couldn't comprehend the invincible-Jake succumb to anything like this. When Grace had asked for his help in fetching a few things, Teddy had uncharacteristically ignored her and sulked off.
Rango came by just as he'd promised, and checked in on Jake. He informed her that they were out searching for whoever did this, but so far they'd had no luck. Grace hadn't thought there would be much of a result, and so didn't voice her non-surprise. Once the Sheriff had left, she'd gone about her usual routine of seeing to her farm and then try to prepare something for Jake to eat for when he eventually woke up.
With nothing else to do but let the worry eat at her frayed nerves, Grace had carefully seen to Jake. With gentleness for something more fragile than glass, she'd cleaned and oiled his gun, and made sure it hadn't taken much damage. She'd noticed blood had seeped from beneath one of the bandages at the bottom of Jake's tail. Quickly fetching a cloth and clean wrappings, she saw to cleaning up his stitching and redressing it.
When she looked up, Jake's fiery eyes were glaring across at her.
Grace froze. For the longest moment, she didn't have a clue what to do. Should she say something? Her throat felt too dry. A wedge suddenly made itself known, a void that sucked everything away, a scar where something had once been. It made Grace panic to think of things like that, but there was no other way to describe the way Jake appeared so unreadable and so far away from her.
The silence, her stare, had stretched on too long. Jake's eyes narrowed.
"What ya think yer doin', woman?" his voice was rough and hoarse.
Grace forced herself to swallow, tried not to recognise all the emotions that were welling up inside her. She put down his tail and retreated a little. "I need to tend these wounds… I can't let them get infected."
"Why bother? Last I checked, ya hated me."
"Hate you?" her gaze shot to his, confused.
She was surprised by the intensity of his glare. "What'd'ya call yer behaviour then?"
"Jake, I didn't – I can't talk about that day…" Damn it, why did her throat close up? Why did the tears threaten or the shakes start? It took her a moment to reign it in. She wouldn't let Jake see her like that. After a moment, she forced out the whispered words. "But I don't hate you."
Jake sighed and shook his head, as if he were so tired from all of this just as she was. "That son'ov'abitch nearly killed ya, and ya still think I'm wrong 'cause it ain't lawful to kill a man – not even when he does that."
"Please, stop."
Her whispered plea had its desired effect. Jake finally looked over at her, and saw how close she was to losing it. The memories had assaulted her mind, the tremors in her body were almost easily detectable. The rattlesnake finally dropped the subject, and she was glad of it. To try and force this out of her, she moved about the barn, just placing things away or picking up random objects only to place them somewhere else. The busy-work gave her tail something to do, and it made sure that Jake couldn't see how hard it was for her to get over this. She wanted to be strong, and she knew she would be in time. It was just taking her a while to get there.
Eventually, Jake's voice floated to her ears, quiet and unassuming. "How'd ya find me?"
"I heard gunshots," she murmured. "I went out into the desert… and found you there."
"Should'a just left me."
"No." She spun to face him, surprising him and herself with her rediscovered conviction. "Whatever you think happened between us, I owe you more than to let you die like that. I couldn't let you die like that. I wanted to help you."
For perhaps the first time since she'd known him, she'd rendered the rattlesnake gunslinger speechless. He looked away, red eyes conflicted. It was almost like he didn't know what to make of her, like they were strangers. Grace didn't want that, and didn't know what she would do about that. Heck she didn't even know what she wanted right now. But Jake's current attitude only made her heart further and further sink into a pit of despair.
"Thanks." She heard him mutter.
And then the conflict was right back. Present warred with the past in a way that Grace was unsure how to handle. As she looked over at him, memories of nights spent in his coils gave her a phantom warmth across her scales. A part of her desperately wanted that back, she'd spent almost every night unable to escape those memories, haunted by her fear that she couldn't have it any longer. And now Jake seemed as far away from her as a canyon-gulf, as ungraspable as the wind. It drove her to misery to think that the man she loved didn't feel the same way.
Her voice was thick as she tried to say anything that would give her the excuse to leave that horrid atmosphere. "I'll, um… I got ya something to eat. Get your strength back. I'll be back with something else later for you."
She gestured to the meal she'd prepared for him, and slowly tried to slither away. Damn it, though, she still hesitated, still wanted him to stop her, call her back. When he said nothing, she looked over her shoulder and saw that he still hadn't moved. He merely gazed at the floor, plate beside him untouched.
"Jake? You got nothing to say?"
His eyes flickered to her, bitter and sharp. "Ain't nothing to say. Yer've made yer mind pretty clear."
Anger flared through her body. If he was unwilling to try and find anything between them again, that was his choice. But he would not blame it on her like that. "Don't you dare. I'm not apologising for what I've gone through. You've got no idea."
"I wouldn't know because ya wouldn't let me." He raised his head and neck off the ground, rounding on her with a temper of his own. "Damn it, ya were my woman! Ya shoulda–"
"I couldn't!" she shouted back. Jake clamped his mouth shut, his expression demanding an explanation. Grace's coils squirmed, and she had to look away. "You don't how much I wanted to – but I just…"
Another tired sigh, and he slithered back from her. "Then that's that, ain't it."
He tried to settle himself back to where he'd previously laid, but grimaced as obvious pain laced through his wounds. It was only then that he took a good look at himself, and Grace saw his expression shift from concern to vengeful fury in a matter of seconds.
"What happened, Jake?" she found herself whispering. "Who did this to you?"
Silence was all that was given to her.
And that was when she lost it. All the hurt, the sting of rejection, it all boiled in her stomach. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of on that first night they'd lain together. He clearly wanted nothing more to do with her, and left her broken in the dust of his wake. It was clear in that fact that there was no trust. And if he couldn't trust her, then there was no relationship. "You know what, Jake? You know every dirty little secret I've got. I might not've been forthcoming with it all, but I don't regret that you know. But you can't say the same. How am I supposed to trust you when you won't show me that respect? When you won't let me in?"
As the days went by, Jake thought long and hard about everything – including what Grace had said to him.
He wanted Grace. He hated to admit, but he wanted the woman back. She was a weakness: she made him yearn for her, get angry and emotional over her, do irrational and ridiculous things all in the name of her affection. It made him weak and he wanted to stamp it out with every fibre of his being. But despite all of that, he wanted Grace so badly. If he were a godly man, he would've wished for a chance to turn back the clock to when they'd been happy together, long before her husband had entered the picture.
The only problem, she seemed to want nothing from him. She trembled when near him, couldn't control her emotions around him, wanted nothing more than to brush away what had happened between then and move on. It was like he'd done something wrong and she wouldn't let him back in until he accomplished some sort of quest for her.
And then she asked him the simplest thing. To tell everything. To spill his guts and lay bare to her everything that he was. But that wasn't in his nature. There was something he had purposefully never told her – never told anyone. It was a dark place he really didn't want to visit and deny it ever existed. He couldn't tell Grace everything, it gave her too much power over him. But was it his only chance to return to her?
She came back to see him regularly, though they hardly spoke. Jake often grew frustrated from all the things he wanted to say but couldn't find the right words. Grace brought him meals and made sure his wounds were healing well. And every time, before she left, she asked him what had happened to him out in the desert. And every time he lied to her.
"I don't know." Was what he said.
It was a bare-faced lie. He knew perfectly well who had done this to him and he was counting down the agonising wait for his body to heal so that he could have his retribution.
Which was why he was very pleased when one night he received two unexpected visitors.
"Took ya long enough," he mumbled into the darkness.
A match sparked to life, and Delilah lit the small lantern in her hand. The bobcat threw him a lopsided smirk. "A lady always arrives on time, sugar, you know that."
"Damn it, Jake," said the second figure as he stepped into the light. "Why'd ya have to go and do this?"
Reth was old and grizzled, a rare thing in the outlaw line of work, and even rarer that that age generally showed. The desert Iguana's tan scales were worn, wrinkled and hung off of his thin frame, his hair had lost almost all of its brown gloss and was instead a messy mop of grey. A scar lay over the lizard's left eye, claiming the orb and turning it grey and lifeless. He spat his tobacco on the floor, briefly flashing the gold of his teeth – those that remained inside his mouth.
Jake looked onto his second and third in command of the Gunslinger Court. These were the only two he knew were utterly loyal to him, the only two he could trust. And they were also the only two that would be with him one hundred percent of the way. It was why he allowed them to see him in this state, bandaged-up and all, and still feel in control and not weak.
"Tell me what ya got," he said.
"Irvin Worst and his lot came into the court," Delilah growled, "told everybody you was dead. I said that bullshit stank worse than him. Reth and I got out fast as we could. No way they were gonna keep us around."
Reth's voice was a gurgle from a life of chewing cigars and tobacco and even wood-shavings from his carvings. "Follo'd ya trail out into th' desert. Follo'd it here."
"Irvin's gone full rogue. Wanted yer place as king o' the gunslingers. There's chaos out there – ain't nobody know when to shit as well shoot."
"That there fox o' yers gone and bought 'em out, saw it myself."
Jake threw the little lizard a look. "I done told you not to get too close."
Reth chortled. "Boy, ya ferget who done taught ya what ya know."
"That ain't all, Jake," Delilah said gravely, scarlet lips pursed. "Rumour been spreadin' last few days. Ramirez been hangin' bout. Wants to get in with the Gunslingers again. This been a setup from the start. Move you out, clear house of all those who got yer back – he moves in and uses the whole thing like his little kingdom."
Jake couldn't speak at first through the rage that made his blood boil. It was one thing to attack him, but to go stomping over everything he'd built and trash it like that? Unacceptable! The promise of sweet vengeance was the only thing that would satisfy him now. Damn everything here – his deal with the Sheriff was off. He'd done far more than his fair share of what Rango'd asked of him. Jake had far more important things to deal with.
He turned his hellfire gaze on the bobcat first. "Delilah, I don't care what ya gotta do, but keep the coyote bastard outta my business. String him along, take him down yerself – I don't care. He steps one foot inside that place, he's a dead man walking."
"Yes sir, daddy-sir," she purred with a malicious grin.
Jake turned to Reth. "Find me where them boys be hidin'. Whatever hole they've crawled into, you find it and you come right back to me. Don't engage. For what them boys did to me, I want them all for myself."
"Ya sure?" Reth cocked a brow. "Ya gonna need some time to heal."
"Give me a week. I'll be back." He snapped dismissively. "When you've got what I want, meet me at the toad's bar in town. And bring everything ya got. What I got planned, I'm gonna put them boys through hell for a long, long time…"
